Here in My Cell
by nutmeg1
Summary: My first fic. about relena and what she thinks about her life. R/R please


Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing. I never will or anything else of major value. I don't make any money off my fics so don't sue.  
  
HERE IN MY CELL  
  
I huddled in this little room that for the past few weeks I have called home. Sure, I don't want to be here. I want to be safe. I want to be safe for at least one moment before I die. Maybe back at my little kingdom by the sea. But do I really want to be back there? Do I really want to be once again someone's puppet? No, I think I'd rather stay here to die. My kingdom. If one can even call it that. It was my home, though. It was where I have lived and where I will live for the rest of my puppet life, if I don't die here first.   
Right now, I'm almost wishing I would. Just right now, drop and stop existing. Oh, what I would I give to be just another page in a history book. Another idol some child will look up to and say, "Mommy, when I grow up I want to be just like her." Dream on, kid. Nothing ever turns out how you want it to.   
I remember when I was still a child. Gods, I was so senseless. I wanted to be my father. I wonder where he is now? Smiling down at his dear Relena from his golden pedestal in heaven. I was devastated when he was murdered. If he were still alive, he would've convinced me to do something useful. I can imagine him, "No, Relena, you don't what you're getting into. It's too stressful for you to handle." I showed him, barely.   
Who would have thought blabbering over used word to endless crowds would be stressful? I do like peace. I even love it. If I hadn't have liked it, I wouldn't have started going around spreading my life's work. Then again, if I hated pacifism I wouldn't be stuck here in this stupid cell.   
I hate assassination attempts. I truly do. They never work out. I always end up living and the whole universe rejoices. I just sit here waiting until some guy crazy enough to risk his own life for mine comes along to save helpless, old me. Like Heero. Oh, Heero. That name. I t used to be heaven on my lips. Used to being the idea. I can't blame him really. He couldn't rush and I couldn't wait. Ironic how he was first of us to be hitched. What was her name again? I can't remember it. I should. She ripped my world in half. My dream one anyway. But the dream one was so much more pleasant than reality.   
In a way Heero has saved me. Not from assassination attempts but something different. If I had stopped loving him when I was fifteen instead of twenty-five I would be happily married, probably with a litter of children toddling at my heels. Who am I kidding? In real life I would be chucked off to the man of highest power so I could gain more and more and more. Until all the brainless idiots that lived would follow my peace talks without putting up another fight.   
Isn't that what I wanted in the first place for everyone to put down their arms and hold hands and sing? No, I did it for Father. To carry on his little known legacy. To gain revenge on his unjust death. When I first started this crusade I was naïve, very naïve. How could I have not been? Thrown head first into a world I knew nothing about. I thought it would be so easy. Go around be as charismatic as possible, talk endlessly, and low and behold it worked. For a time anyway. Then they realized how lethal I really was and destroyed my glass kingdom.   
My poor glass kingdom. As I stood there and watched it shattered reality set in. Ah, bittersweet reality. I remember that clearly. The exact moment when I knew this wasn't game. It was real. People were dying for what I believed in, they believed in. And all I did was stand there while people I knew and loved sacrificed their lives. Their screams were overwhelming. So overwhelming that at that moment I sacrificed myself. I was no longer human. Just something that would fight until people realized that it was all futile. If we were all going to die, then why die for something so useless, so pointless that eventually how it was started was forgotten?   
And now here I sit in my cell waiting for some one to come and save me. Twenty-five, soulless, and loveless. It seems that is all I have done with my life is sit. Sit in one version or another of a prison and think and mourn all that I have and have not accomplished.  



End file.
